China under the Empress Dowager

by J. O. P. Bland; Sir E. Backhouse

At T’ai-yüan fu, so many officials had joined the Court that intrigues became rife; there was much heartburning as to precedence and status. Those who had borne the burden and heat of the day, the dangers and the hardships of the flight from Peking, claimed special recognition and seniority at the hands of their Imperial Mistress. Each of these thought they should be privileged above those of equal rank who had only rejoined the Court when all danger was past, and still more so above those who were now hurrying up from the provinces in search of advancement.

The chief topic of discussion at audience, and at meetings of the Grand Council, was the question of the Court’s return to Peking, or of the removal of the Capital to one of the chief cities of the South or West. Chang Chih-tung had put in a Memorial, strongly recommending the city of Tang-Yang in Hupei, on account of its central position. One of the arguments gravely put forward by the “scholarly bungler” for this proposal was, that the characters “Tang-Yang” (which mean “facing south”) were in themselves of good augury, and an omen of better days to come, because the Emperor always sits with his face to the south. Chang’s enemies at Court saw in this idea a veiled hint that the Emperor should be restored to power.

But Jung Lu was now facile princeps in the Old Buddha’s counsels, and at audience his colleagues of the Grand Council (Lu Ch’uan-lin and Wang Wen-shao) followed his lead implicitly. He never ceased to advise the Empress to return forthwith to Peking, and, when at a later date she decided on this step, it was rather because of her faith in his sound judgment than because of the many Memorials sent in from other high officials. During the Court’s stay at T’ai-yüan fu, argument on this subject was continual, but towards the end of September rumours reached Her Majesty that the Allies were sending a swift punitive expedition to avenge the murdered missionaries; this decided her to leave at once for Hsi-an fu, where she would feel safe from further pursuit. The Court left accordingly on the 30th September; but as the preservation of “face” before the world is a fundamental principle, with Empresses as with slave-girls, in China, her departure was announced in the following brief Edict:—

“As Shansi province is suffering from famine, which makes it very difficult to provide for our needs, and as the absence of telegraphic communication there causes all manner of inconvenient delays, we are compelled to continue our progress westwards to Hsi-an.”

The journey into Shensi was made with all due provision for the dignity and comfort of their Majesties, but the Empress was overcome by grief en route at the death of Kang Yi, chief patron of the Boxers, and the most bigoted and violent of all the reactionaries near the Throne. He fell ill at a place called Hou Ma, and died in three days, although the Vice-President of the Board of Censors, Ho Nai-ying, obtained leave to remain behind and nurse him. The Old Buddha was most reluctant to leave the invalid, and showed unusual emotion. After his death she took a kindly interest in his son (who followed the Court to Hsi-an) and would frequently speak to him of his father’s patriotism and loyalty.

At Hsi-an fu the Court occupied the Governor’s official residence, into which Her Majesty removed after residing for a while in the buildings formerly set apart for the temporary accommodation of the Viceroy of Kansuh and Shensi on visits of inspection. Both Yamêns had been prepared for Their Majesties’ use; the walls had been painted Imperial red, and the outer Court surrounded with a palisade, beyond which were the quarters of the Imperial Guards, and the makeshift lodgings of the Metropolitan Boards and the officials of the nine Ministries on Palace duty. The arrangements of the Court, though restricted in the matter of space, were on much the same lines as in Peking. The main hall of the “Travelling Palace” was left empty, the side halls being used as ante-chambers for officials awaiting audience. Behind the main hall was a room to which access was given by a door with six panels, two of which were left open, showing the Throne in the centre of the room, upholstered in yellow silk. It was here that Court ceremonies took place. On the left of this room was the apartment where audiences were held daily, and behind this again were the Empress Dowager’s bedroom and private sitting-room. The Emperor and his Consort occupied a small apartment communicating with the Old Buddha’s bedroom, and to the west of these again were three small rooms, occupied by the Heir Apparent. The chief eunuch occupied the room next to that of the Old Buddha on the east side. The general arrangements for the comfort and convenience of the Court were necessarily of a makeshift and provisional character and the Privy Purse was for a time at a low ebb, so that Her Majesty was much exercised over the receipt and safe custody of the tribute, in money and in kind, which came flowing in from the provinces. So long as the administration of her household was under the supervision of Governor Ts’en, the strictest economy was practised; for instance, the amount allowed by him for the upkeep of their Majesties’ table was two hundred taels (about £25) per day, which, as the Old Buddha remarked on one occasion, was about one-tenth of the ordinary expenditure under the same heading at Peking. “We are living cheaply now,” she said; to which the Governor replied, “The amount could still be reduced with advantage.”

Her Majesty’s custom, in selecting the menus for the day, was to have a list of about one hundred dishes brought in every evening by the eunuch on duty. After the privations of the flight from Peking, the liberal supply of swallows’ nests and bêche-de-mer which came in from the South was very much appreciated, and her rough fare of chickens and eggs gave way to recherché menus; but the Emperor, as usual, limited himself to a diet of vegetables. She gave orders that no more than half a dozen dishes should be served at one meal, and she took personal pains with the supply of milk, of which she always consumed a considerable quantity. Six cows were kept in the immediate vicinity of the Imperial apartments, for the feeding of which Her Majesty was charged two hundred taels a month. Her health was good on the whole, but she suffered from indigestion, which she attributed to the change of climate and the fatigues of her journey. For occasional attacks of insomnia she had recourse to massage, in which several of the eunuchs were well-skilled. After the Court had settled down at Hsi-an fu, Her Majesty was again persuaded to permit the presentation of plays, which she seemed generally to enjoy as much as those in Peking. But her mind was for ever filled with anxiety as to the progress of the negotiations with the foreign Powers at the Capital, and all telegrams received were brought to her at once. The news of the desecration of her Summer Palace had filled her with wrath and distress, especially when, in letters from the eunuch Sun (who had remained in charge at Peking), she learned that her Throne had been thrown into the lake, and that the soldiers had made “lewd and ribald drawings and writings” even on the walls of her bedroom. It was with the greatest relief that she heard of the settlement of the terms of peace, subsequently recorded in the Protocol of 7th of September, and so soon as these terms had been irrevocably arranged, she issued a Decree (June, 1901) fixing the date for the Court’s return in September. This Decree, issued in the name of the Emperor, was as follows:

“Our Sacred Mother’s advanced age renders it necessary that we should take the greatest care of her health, so that she may attain to peaceful longevity; a long journey in the heat being evidently undesirable, we have fixed on the 19th day of the 7th Moon to commence our return journey, and are now preparing to escort Her Majesty, viâ Honan.”

One of the most notorious Boxer leaders, namely, Duke Kung, the younger brother of Prince Chuang, had accompanied the Court, with his family, to Hsi-an. The Old Buddha, realising that his presence would undoubtedly compromise her, now decided to send him away. His family fell from one state of misery to another; no assistance was rendered to them by any officials on the journey, and eventually, after much wandering, the Duke was compelled to earn a bare living by serving as a subordinate in a small Yamên, while his wife, who was young and comely, was sold into slavery. It was clear that the Old Buddha had now realised the error of her ways and the folly that had been committed in encouraging the Boxers. After the executions and suicides of the proscribed leaders of the movement she was heard on one occasion to remark: “These Princes and Ministers were wont to bluster and boast, relying upon their near kinship to ourselves, and we foolishly believed them when they assured us that the foreign devils would never get the better of China. In their folly they came within an ace of overthrowing our Dynasty. The only one whose fate I regret is Chao Shu-ch’iao. For him I am truly sorry.”